


The Best Man

by ZoeyTear



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Reference to self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2808257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeyTear/pseuds/ZoeyTear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has fallen into an unhealthy style of living upon his realisation that he cannot go on in life. Sherlock loves John, and John loves Sherlock. Yet, John also loves Mary. In this story, John will have to make one of the most important decisions of his life. The man he loved, or the woman who helped him forget?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to write babies, so I'm pretending Mary isn't pregnant
> 
> I do not own any of the characters in this story, bar original creations. I recognise that BBC own the Sherlock characters I am writing about.
> 
> This story was completed in late summer 2014.

Baker Street. Now. SH

Why? Do you have a case? JW

No, I just want to speak with you. SH

Seriously? Can we not just text? JW

This is the first text of mine you have answered in two months SH

It hasn't been two months, has it? JW

Nice to know you missed me SH

Jesus, sorry, Sherlock. It's been a bit hectic. JW

So hectic you have had literally no time in the past two months to text me? That's 62 days. 1488 hours. Must be very hectic. SH

Oh, don't be like that, Sherlock. This hasn't been the easiest time for me and you know that. JW

Still pissed off with Mary, then? SH

Yeah, a bit JW

Can't say I was too happy about her shooting me, but she does love you SH

I know that JW

Good for you SH

Why are you texting me, Sherlock? JW

I told you. I wanted to speak to you SH

Yeah, but why? JW

Dear Lord, don't make me actually say it SH

Say what? JW

Fine SH                     I miss you SH

Oh. Okay. Well, I've been busy JW

Yeah, whatever SH

Do you want me to come over? JW

I did. Now I'm just pissed off. SH

With me? JW

With life SH

Sherlock, are you okay? JW

I don't believe I am, John SH

What's wrong? JW

I think it's overwhelming loneliness SH

Oh, Sherlock. I'm sorry. I'll come over now. JW

Don't strain yourself. Only come over if you actually want to. SH

I do want to JW

Fine SH

See you soon JW

Yeah, yeah SH

John placed his phone on the kitchen table and sighed heavily. Sherlock didn't usually act this way. He hates most people, yet stills finds himself feeling lonely. John felt guilty and tired and sad. Since the truth about Mary came out...it just wasn't the same. She wasn't the sweet and innocent woman John had fallen in love with. Now, any time he thought back on their past, on their beginning...he just wondered how many times she had lied. He still loved Mary, or at least, he thought he did.

''Mary! I'm going to Sherlock's!'' John called out, pulling on his coat.

''Will you be long?'' She called from upstairs.

''No idea. He seems upset. See ya.'' John opened the front door.

''Tell him I said hello!''

John nodded to himself and stepped outside.

                                                                           *

It took John just under an hour to reach Baker Street. He still had his key and he let himself in, smiling lightly at the familiar surroundings.

''Sherlock?'' he called, hanging up his coat.

''Upstairs!'' Came a faint reply.

John hopped up the stairs and into the sitting room. Sherlock turned around from the window and John froze.

Thin. He was so thin. Pale. Tired. But, incredibly thin. His shirt which once strained across his chest, hung loosely around his torso now. His cheek bones protruded from his face. He almost looked skeletal.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. ''Something on my face?''

''Sher...'' John breathed, feeling as if the air had been knocked from him. He took a step forward. ''When was the last time you ate?''

Sherlock frowned a little. ''Well...this morning, actually.''

John took another step forward. ''Okay, let me rephrase that. When was the last time you ate something  _substantial_?''

''Ah,'' Sherlock nodded his understanding of the question, brushing past John into the kitchen.

''Sherlock?'' John said sternly. ''Tell me.''

Sherlock flicked on his kettle and took out two mugs. '' 'Bout a week ago, I don't know...''

''A week?'' John nearly shouted, eyes widening. ''Are you trying to kill yourself?!''

''Not exactly.'' Sherlock murmured, looking back at John.

John felt his mouth go dry and he could hear the rush of blood in his ears. Oh. He wasn't breathing. He took in a breath and swallowed hard. ''What do you mean?''

Sherlock gave John a pitying, sad smile. ''Lately, the whole idea of 'living' hasn't been that desirable to me.''

John bit his lip. ''Why would you say that?''

Sherlock sighed and turned away to continue making tea. ''Because it's true. I'm lonely and unhappy and I feel conflicted. It's crazy. It's interfering too much with my work. I've no developments on Moriarty. I'm pretty damn useless, so why bother?''

''No,'' John managed to choke out in a small voice. Sherlock turned back to him, hearing the distress in his friend's voice.

''John...''

''No, Sherlock. You cannot make me go through that again.''

Sherlock looked down to John for a long moment. He'd completely crawled into his own mind for the last two months. He only spoke if it was necessary. He barely listened to anyone. He had forgotten about the one person who cared for him the most.

''No...'' Sherlock answered a little dumbly. ''No, I wont make you do that again.''

''Then stop this self destruction, Sherlock!'' John cried, throwing his hands up in the air. ''For someone so smart, you're the biggest idiot I know!''

Sherlock sighed. ''John, I'm sorry. I just got a little lost.'' 

John let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. ''You have no idea how infuriating you are, do you?''

''Look, John! I said I was sorry!''

''YOU WERE TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF!'' John shouted. Sherlock grimaced and looked down. ''What else have you done to yourself, Sherlock?'' John asked, stepping right up to him.

Sherlock shook his head almost childishly. '' I don't know what you're talking about.''

''Don't play games with me.'' John growled. ''What have you done?''

''Well, what do you suspect?!'' Sherlock shouted. ''All the usual things someone who's suicidal would do!''

''Oh, Sherlock.'' John said in a much softer tone. ''Sherlock, I'm so sorry.''

Sherlock bit his lip and nodded, fending off tears.

''Do you want me to take a look, seeing as I'm a doctor?''

Sherlock shook his head and felt tears spill over onto his cheeks. He hadn't cried in all those two months. He had been numb.

John quickly pulled Sherlock into a strong hug. ''I'm sorry I haven't been here for you. Do you want me to stay over tonight?''

''Yes, please.'' Sherlock answered, sniffling, then laughing at himself. ''My God, John. What has happened to me?''

''You're changing.'' John said simply. ''That's not a bad thing. It can be frightening, but it's just what happens. People change.''

''I was quite content with the way I was before. Suddenly, I  _care_  so much. It's ghastly.''

John smiled lightly and pulled out of their embrace. ''Caring isn't so bad, now, is it?''

''I hate it.'' Sherlock said, wiping the tears away from under his eyes. ''Because if you care about someone, you love them, right?''

John nodded slowly, biting his lip. ''Yeah, but there's all sorts of love.''

''I've noticed,'' Sherlock muttered. ''As if it wasn't complicated enough, you've got the whole ''family love'', then you love your friends and then...don't get me started about the whole ''being in love'' thing. It's pretty horrible when they don't return the feeling.''

John raised an eyebrow. ''What? Are you telling me that you've been in love?''

Sherlock sighed and went back to his and John's tea. '' I  _am_  in love.'' 

John smiled a little. ''Who is it? Are you going out?''

Sherlock laughed in response and shook his head, finally handing John his tea. ''Who'd want me as a boyfriend?''

''Janine did.'' John took a sip of his tea.

''Oh. Her.'' Sherlock smiled a little. ''Neither of us really liked each other that much.''

''Ohhh...So, you never...?''

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. ''Never what?''

''You know...'' he motioned to the bedroom.

''Ah...nope.'' Sherlock said, wrapping his fingers around the mug. ''Dear God, no.''

John laughed. ''You haven't changed in some aspects, Sherlock.''

Sherlock shrugged. ''Changed nonetheless.''

''So, who do you love?''

''Doesn't matter. They're taken.'' Sherlock mumbled.

''Oh, that's rough.'' John said sympathetically. ''Do you think there's a chance they'll break up?''

''For a little while, I thought so...Now, no. No. They're happy and I suppose that's what matters.''

John was a little taken aback by the sincerity of Sherlock's voice. ''Man or woman?''

''Uh...man.'' Sherlock said, gulping down the rest of his tea. 

''Do I know him?''

Sherlock pursed his lips, wondering how to answer. ''Not as well as I do.'' Sherlock decided to respond with.

''You're never going to tell me who it is, are you?''

''Absolutely never.''

John frowned. ''But, you've gotten me all curious!''

''Curiosity killed the cat, John.''

''Come on! I'm your friend! You're supposed to tell me this stuff!''

''Not when I don't think you'll approve.''

''If I could accept you being married to your work, then I can certainly handle you being in love with a man.''

''It's nothing to do with it being a man, it's the  _who,_ John.''

''Lestrade?''

''No, John...''

''Mike?''

''God, no.''

''Is it...Anderson?''

''  _God_  no!''

''Who else is there?''

''It's pretty obvious, but I'd prefer if you didn't go prying, John!'' Sherlock fretted.

''Hmmm, Oh, I bet it's-'' John stilled.

''John? John, what is it?'' Sherlock asked hurriedly, his stomach in knots.

John just looked up at Sherlock with wide eyes. ''Oh, God.''


	2. How Dare You

*Flashback*

_**''John?'' Mary said gently, sliding her hand into John's as they walked through the park. He stopped and looked at her expectantly.** _

_**''I understand that you went through a lot with...with your friend. I know how upset you get.''** _

_**John looked down to the ground. ''Mhm?''** _

_**''Well, we've been sort of dating for three weeks, and I was wondering...why haven't we kissed?''** _

_**John's eyes darted up again to Mary. He felt guilty. ''I do like you Mary, I really do. And, I'd like to continue to see you, but I...Is it selfish of me to ask you to wait before we kiss? I don't think I'm ready for that, not after...''** _

_**''You loved him, didn't you?'' Mary said gently, frowning to see John upset.** _

_**John bit his lip, tears forming. He nodded a little, looking down again.** _

_**''Oh, John...'' Mary said in a sympathetic voice, pulling him into a hug. ''John, I'm so sorry.''** _

_**He clutched onto Mary, silently sobbing. ''That stupid bastard killed himself. How could he do that to me? How could he just leave me?''** _

_**''I know, John. I know.'' She shushed him. ''Sometimes people just don't see another way out. They forget about the people they love because they're afraid of hurting.''** _

_**''But he...he was Sherlock Holmes! He could do anything!''** _

_**''Then, he lost his way, John. He didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sure of it.''** _

_**''He probably didn't even understand how I would be affected. He was such a bloody idiot.''** _

_**''He loved you enough to say goodbye, didn't he?''** _

_**John let out a sob, then a bitter laugh. ''Sherlock didn't love me. That's the one thing that makes this easier. Sherlock Holmes would never love me.''** _

*End of flashback*

''John? Jesus Christ! What's wrong? Move! Speak!'' Sherlock fretted, his eyes searching John's face. He'd figured it out. This was probably the worst reaction Sherlock would've thought of.

John finally looked back up to Sherlock, eyes blown wide. ''No.'' he made out.

Sherlock felt as if a hand was reaching into his gut and twisting. ''John, please say something.''

''How dare you.'' John breathed.

Sherlock felt his heart drop and he just looked at John, swallowing hard. ''What?'' he mumbled, his lips refusing to move properly.

John finally flipped. ''How dare you!'' he shouted, pushing his hands into Sherlock's chest and making him stumble back.

Sherlock felt tears spring into his eyes. ''I-I'm sorry! I can't help it!''

''No!'' John roared, tears streaming. ''How dare you jump if you love me! How dare you make me move on! How dare you let me marry second best!''

Sherlock was completely and utterly frozen. Glued to the spot. Stuck. Stilled. He just kept his eyes latched onto John. He knew what John meant by his words. He knew what it meant, but a part of him wanted to be wrong. Very wrong.

John was staring at Sherlock, his chest heaving after his out burst. He almost regretted it now. The look of pain on Sherlock's face wasn't worth it. The horrible things he had said wasn't worth it. But, he just felt so angry. If Sherlock did love him, why did he let him slip so far away?

''You didn't know, did you?'' John asked, his voice quieter now. More weary than angry.

Sherlock didn't answer and continued to stare at John. Sherlock was scared that if he made any movement, he'd burst into tears. 

''Sherlock, I'm so sorry for shouting.'' he said softly, pacing his words. ''You didn't know I loved you back, did you?''

Sherlock gave an almost miss-able nod and tried to swallow. ''Yeah, I...I didn't know.''

John nodded almost bitterly. What should he say? What could you say at a moment like this?

''John?'' Sherlock softly pleaded for his attention.

John looked right at Sherlock and waited for him to start speaking.

''If I had known...If I-'' Sherlock let out a shaky breath, resting his head in his hands.

''I know,'' John said softly. ''We could've...''

''Don't say it.'' Sherlock's muffled voice said. ''Don't say it or else that means we have to accept it.''

''What do you mean?''

''It was much easier pretending I didn't love you, and watching you fall for someone else.'' Sherlock lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed. ''But now? Now that I know that if I hadn't been so  _ignorant_  of my own feelings that I could've finally found some happiness. That's worse than how I've been living already.''

John bit his lip in fear of crying again. ''We're such idiots''

Sherlock gave a sad laugh and met John's gaze ''Yeah, we are''

''Sherlock...What the Hell are we supposed to do now?''

Sherlock let out a long breath. ''Nothing. You're going to go back to your ordinary life with Mary. I'll stay here at Baker Street. We probably wont see that much of each other anymore since this is more than a little unbearable.''

John shook his head and gestured towards Sherlock. ''I can't just leave you. You can't keep living like this. You'll kill yourself.''

Sherlock banged his fist down onto the table, shaking their mugs and his science equipment.

''I don't know what to do!'' he shouted.

John stepped towards Sherlock. ''I'm not leaving you.''

Sherlock groaned helplessly and looked at John. ''Please don't make me watch you grow old with her. I can't do that. I can't.''

''Sherlock, I can't lose you again. I  _need_  you.'' 

Sherlock let out a sound almost like a whimper. ''Jesus Christ, John.''

''Please. Please, I'm actually begging you!'' John started to get anxious. ''I can't do that again! I need you in my life!''

''Why?'' Sherlock shouted. ''You hadn't spoken to me for two months before this happened! That doesn't exactly scream 'love'!''

John sighed. Sherlock had always been so stubborn and there was only one way to shut him up. John reached forward and latched a hand onto Sherlock's shirt. He brought him in, and with no hesitation, pressed his lips against the detective's.

Sherlock was rigid until his mind gave him a kick and reminded him what to do. He kissed back.

It was desperate, heated and full of complete longing and neither of the two seemed to be able to get enough. With Sherlock holding John's face, and John's hand twisted into his black curls, they were pressed right up against each other.

Year's worth of feeling flowed through their kiss, and as well as it being satisfying, it was also heart breaking. They knew what would need to happen once the kiss ended.

John slowly and softly brought them out of their kiss, his hand now twisted into the fabric of Sherlock's shirt. He looked up at Sherlock, both of them nearly in tears.

''I have to go.'' he said in a small voice, detaching himself from Sherlock. 

All Sherlock could to was nod and watch sadly as John left the room.


	3. He's Hurt

Banging. Banging. Banging. 

Sherlock lifted his heavy head from the couch seat and groaned at the knocks coming from the sitting room's locked door. 

''What is it?'' Came his drunken drawl, as he sat himself up, shaking his head a little to wake himself up.

''Sherlock! It's Mary!'' 

Sherlock felt a flurry of panic as he remembered what had happened. Why on earth was Mary here? Where was John, if he wasn't with Mary? Where was John? Sherlock stood up, stopping a moment to clear his head. ''Mary, what are you doing here?''

''Sherlock! It's John! He's-He's hurt!''

Sherlock felt a brutal wave of panic rise up through him and he fell at the door and fumbled with the lock, eventually wrenching the door open. He looked down at Mary. She had been crying. 

''What do you mean? Why would he be hurt?''

She gave Sherlock a miserable stare. ''On the way back from your house...I don't know...was he drinking here?''

Sherlock shook his head quickly, and started to understand what had happened. ''Car crash.''

Mary nodded, biting her lip and running a hand through her short hair. ''Was he upset or something? Did yous fight? It's not like John to drink-drive.''

Sherlock almost felt as if someone had stabbed him in the chest. It was all his fault. He shook his head softly. Mary could never know. His lips felt heavy and his tongue took too much effort to move, but he needed to know more. 

''Mary, how badly hurt is he? Will he be alright?''

''I..I don't know! I came to you first!''

Sherlock gaped at her. ''You could've called me over the phone! John's in hospital? John's in hospital and he's been in a car crash and  _you're not with him_?!''

She blinked at him for a moment and tears formed in her eyes. ''I-I didn't think! I was scared! I wanted to know if anything had happened! I thought I was being clever.''

Sherlock let out a noise of dissatisfaction, then made way for his room. ''Call a cab! I'll be with you in a moment!''

Sherlock saw her nod and lean against the wall, taking out her phone. He fell against his door as he shut it behind him. ''Shit, shit,shit.'' he whispered to himself, his body feeling cold as it started to shake. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the spinning of his head or the feeling of nausea in his stomach. ''John.'' he breathed quietly, trying to get himself to move. ''You need to help John.''

Sherlock pulled himself up and quickly stripped off his alcohol-stained clothes. He threw on a clean suit and walked to his mirror. He looked a fright. Pale. Bags under his eyes. His hair stuck up and his bones stuck out unattractively. He sighed and ruffled his hair, trying to make it look better somehow. His eyes were red as he tried to hold in tears. ''You need to help John.'' he whispered to his reflection, voice breaking on John's name. He cleared his throat and walked out to Mary. ''Alright, then?'' he said to her. She nodded and they both started down the stairs. 

They got into a cab and sat together in a heavy silence. Sherlock could sense her looking at him and he turned his head away from the window to look back at her. ''I know how I look.''

She frowned at him and bit her lip, like she was hesitating to say something. ''John said you were upset.''

Sherlock shook his head and looked back out the window. ''Forget it, Mary.''

She placed a hand over Sherlock's on the seat and swallowed hard. ''Sherlock...'' she said softly. 

Sherlock pulled his hand away and used it to run through his hair. ''It is nothing that concerns you.''

She cocked her head to the side, looking at him. ''Sherlock,'' she whispered in a sad voice. ''I know.''

Sherlock snapped his head to look at her, his heart jumping into his mouth. ''Know what? There's nothing to know.''

She sighed heavily and sat back in her seat. ''I know you mean no harm, and I know you wont do anything, but I do know.''

Sherlock swallowed and licked his lips. There was no point in hiding it from Mary. She was smart, but she didn't need to know that John knew now too of his feelings. That would change too much. ''You're right. I wont do anything.''

She nodded, her face grim as she stared out the window. ''You didn't see him, Sherlock. When you were away. He needed to move on. He needed me.'' She looked back to Sherlock. ''And I was there to comfort him.''

Sherlock felt his mouth go dry and that horrible feeling of guilt and hurt build up inside his chest until it was almost unbearable. He cleared his throat. ''I know that.'' he said quietly. ''And, I've never gotten to say thanks. Thank you for picking up the pieces I left behind.''

She nodded at Sherlock, wearing that sad smile again. ''What else was I going to do? Just leave him?'' 

Sherlock shook his head and looked down at his lap. 

''But, this has to stop, Sherlock. Look at yourself. How much do you weigh?'' She sighed heavily. ''You can't do this to yourself. He just got you back. He can't watch you fade again.''

Sherlock let out a long, shuddered breath. ''I wish you'd all stop caring about me. It was easier when you didn't care.''

Mary bit her lip and was about to respond when the cab stopped and the driver looked back for his fare. Sherlock paid and got out of the car without another look at Mary. He pushed his hands into his coat pocket and started towards the hospital doors. He asked at the desk for John's room and went up without waiting for Mary. 

When he got to John's room, a few doctors were just exiting. They informed Sherlock that John had just woken up and that he would make a full recovery. He was just a little bashed up right now. Sherlock walked in and stopped when he saw John. He was fine...apart from his head. His hair stuck up at the back from where it had bled. Sherlock locked his eyes onto John's and swallowed hard. ''You idiot.''

John sighed and looked down. ''Is Mary with you?'' 

Sherlock nodded and paced over to the window in John's room. ''She was right behind me.''

John followed Sherlock's movements. ''Does she know?''

''No.'' Sherlock murmured, looking out the window and into the dark night. ''Why did you do that, John? You could've died. Do you know how lucky you are?'' Sherlock looked back at him.

John just shook his head and stared up at Sherlock. ''You know why I did this.''

Sherlock's face twisted in pain for just a second. ''Yeah,'' he said in a breathy voice, the lump in his throat hindering him from proper speech. ''It's always my fault.''

John's eyes widened and he pointed at Sherlock. ''You know that's not what I meant, Sherlock.''

Sherlock just looked at John, his face grave,drawn and tired. ''It's true, John.''

John opened his mouth to make an argument, but Mary came in. She rushed over to John, tears in her eyes. She took his face in her hands and kissed him quickly. ''You silly man!''

Sherlock looked at them both, his face almost blank in his extreme terror and pain. He just couldn't do this anymore. He could not live any longer. It wasn't fair. He didn't want to be here. Why should they get to keep him here? Selfish. He wanted to die. 

When they pulled out of their kiss, Mary stayed looking at John's face, just glad that he was okay, while John glanced over at Sherlock. And when he saw the expression on Sherlock's face, he felt his heart break. Sherlock looked away and after a moment of hesitating on his feet, he walked from the room. He didn't want to live anymore.


	4. Choose

After a good forty minutes of Sherlock waiting outside John's room, sat on an uncomfortable chair with a blank expression, Mary emerged. She shut the door closed and leaned against it a moment, shutting her eyes and taking in a deep breath. She snapped her eyes opened, then looked over to Sherlock. He was hunched over in the chair, head in his hands, probably a million miles away. 

''Sherlock,'' she called, walking forwards and tapping him on the shoulder to attract his attention. Sherlock lazily lifted his head to look at Mary. He licked his lips, searching for moisture. 

''Is he okay?''

She nodded silently and took a seat beside Sherlock, instantly frowning. ''Oh, these aren't comfy. Pointy plastic.''

Sherlock nodded at her comment, not listening. He drooped his head again, his chin nearly touching his chest. 

''You're feeling guilty, Sherlock.'' Mary said, looking at him while she crossed her arms across her chest. ''What happened back at your house?''

Sherlock looked at her and all he could think about was how amazing it had felt to kiss John. How much his heart had swelled when John twisted his fingers through his hair. How he could feel both their hearts beating when their chests were pressed together. Or, maybe, the surprising softness of his lips in such a heated kiss. ''Nothing happened. He just got mad at me because of...'' Sherlock sighed. ''Well, like you said, I'm very thin. And, I shouldn't be living like this...All that  _caring_  lark.''

She frowned and sighed. ''Well...you really upset him.''

Sherlock grimaced slightly and looked away from Mary once again. ''Look, Mary-''

''No, you get in there and you sort it out!'' She snapped and Sherlock looked back, slightly surprised at how angry she sounded. ''Whatever happened made my husband be in a car crash. I've forgiven you for a lot, Sherlock. And you've forgiven me too, but I don't take kindly to my husband being in a car crash. You've harmed him enough.''

Sherlock gaped at her. ''You're making it sound like I do this on purpose!'' he replied, his voice shaking from anger. ''I don't set out my days saying 'Oh, how do I hurt John today?' !''

She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose. ''Look, I'm sorry, Sherlock. Would you please just talk to him?'' She opened her eyes. ''Reassure him somehow. He's so worried about you.''

Sherlock stood, smoothing down the front of his coat and taking a breath. He walked forward and placed his hand on the door handle. He turned back to Mary for a moment. ''You don't think I should see him anymore, do you?''

She looked at Sherlock, pausing before she spoke. ''...We'll talk about it later. I don't think you should stop seeing him. He...You're his best friend.''

Sherlock took in a calming breath and nodded, before opening the door into John's room. He stepped in, suddenly shivering, and he wrapped his coat around his torso tight. ''You wanted to see me?''

John looked up from staring at his lap and stared at Sherlock's face. He swallowed and licked his lips, mouth dry. He gave a small laugh. A hollow, bitter and tired laugh. ''We shouldn't have kissed.''

Sherlock felt a small jump in chest as the words hit him and he looked down instantly, biting on the inside of his mouth and pressing his lips together. He let the pain tighten into his chest along with everything else and he looked back up to John, nodding and clearing his throat. ''Probably not.''

John smiled sadly at Sherlock and beckoned for him to sit by him. Sherlock swallowed painfully and stepped forward, sinking into the slightly more comfortable armchair than the chairs outside. He looked at John. ''You really shouldn't have done that, you know. What if you had been seriously hurt?''

John laughed softly, with a hint of disbelief. ''Says you. You're the one who's been slowly trying to  _kill_ _yourself_. You're a bloody idiot, Sherlock.''

''No, don't you turn this back on me. I'm not the one in hospital.'' Sherlock shot back.

''Maybe you should be! Have you seen yourself lately? You look like a fucking twig! You cannot do this to yourself.''

Sherlock groaned and slid down in the armchair, he raised his hands and covered his face, letting out a loud, frustrated noise. He quickly pulled himself back up and leaned forward in his chair, looking at John's face. ''John, I can't. I literally can't go on. I can't think anymore. Everything I am feeling is with me every single second that I am awake.'' Sherlock sighed and drooped his head down. ''I should've jumped off that bloody building for good. Sure, you would have been upset, but you found Mary and you were happy again. I would never have had to put up with-'' Sherlock let out a noise almost like a squeak.

John stared at Sherlock, biting his lip. He was so worried. He was so incredibly terrified that Sherlock would hurt himself, or even end his own life. He felt guilty even though he knew that none of this was really his fault. Partly, maybe...And, he felt selfish because he was very much so thinking about himself. He didn't want to have to go through that pain again. He could not live any longer if Sherlock wasn't living and breathing. ''Sherlock, you can't do that to me. You just can't.''

Sherlock looked up at John. ''I would say the same to you.'' his voice broke. 

Sherlock's words hit him hard and he let out an annoyed sound, shaking his head. ''This can't continue, this thing we have going on-''

''My point exactly!'' Sherlock cried. 

''Yeah, but you don't  _commit suicide,_ Sherlock!'' John scolded, his voice raised. ''You talk about it! We can work through this and fix it! Let's try be rational!''

''You don't think I've tried? I have gone through every outcome in my head. Someone always gets hurt. Nothing good can come out of this. Ever. John, I...'' Sherlock shook his head and shut his eyes a moment. ''I love you.'' he whispered, looking at John.

John's face twisted in pain and he looked away, sitting himself up straighter. ''Sherlock, please don't...'' he said, eyes on the wall opposite. His voice was thick. 

Sherlock just kept looking at him. ''I do.'' he said, a slight hint of colour coming into his voice. ''I'm so sorry it took me this long to realise. But, I do. I love you.''

John let out a dry sob and looked back to Sherlock. ''I love you too.'' he said in a small voice. 

Sherlock let out a short laugh, and among all his pain, just to hear John say those words, he smiled. A sad smile, yes, but a smile nonetheless. He nodded at John and sniffed, dropping his gaze to the hospital bed. ''What are we going to do?''

John looked at Sherlock a long while. That smile on his face. The most sincere smile he had ever seen Sherlock wear and Sherlock didn't even realise he was doing that. The first time he had seen him smile genuinely in so long. The little sparkle that flickered in his eyes for a moment. And, seeing this made everything clear for John. He took a deep breath. He didn't want Sherlock to get his hopes up. Everything was still complicated. But...

''What are we going to do?'' John repeated his question. ''I have to choose.''


	5. Defined By Experience

Imagine you were born, brilliant in every way. Imagine your talents defined you, but not your heart. When people saw you all they saw was a book, a calculator, an encyclopedia. You were put on this planet to show how smart you are. Surely people thinking you are clever should be a welcome thing, but if they  _only_  see your brain. If they only hear your deductions and forget what comes from your heart, in time, so would you. So, imagine you were born, defined by your brain. How would life suit you?

Sherlock Holmes, of course, was once a child. He once had toys and had bad dreams. He used to cry when he scraped his knee, he used to climb into his parent's bed at night. He played with his dog and quite happily kept to himself, sometimes playing with his brother, in their far-off home in the countryside. He was a sweet and courteous young man and maybe sometimes he made one deduction too many, but he never set out saying that he would turn out to be cold or alone or 'sociopathic'.

Like a lot of humans would do, you cannot deny it, his classmates instantly labelled him 'freak' because he was different. Of course , they were young and hardly mature enough to understand that being different is just a part of life. Yet, this exclusion only ever continued for Sherlock. He was hardened into a man who despises the idea of caring. Though, he would never admit it's because he's afraid of getting hurt.

All his life; and outcast. Exclusion, nasty comments and even physical bullying from time to time. Sherlock Holmes was his own friend and he tried to make himself happy. He looked for substances in life to replace unknown friends. Any source of stimulation, he found, would distract his mind long enough to forget (or completely ignore) his lack of companionship. Sherlock Holmes  _had_  never loved. Sherlock Holmes never  _was_  loved (excluding his parents). So, why on earth would you question how he was acting today?

It was John. It always had been, and he had loved him from ''That was...amazing''. He had completely adored him, and he had latched like a vice onto the ex-soldier. He was  _new._ He was  _different,_ and everyday Sherlock got by on the thought that he finally had a friend. A true friend. Someone who accepted his less-than-socially-acceptable quirks. Not like Lestrade, who only made a real effort to make conversation if there was nothing better for him to do (that in mind, he had been nicer since Sherlock had returned).

Yet,still. John Watson was a beacon of hope in Sherlock's gaunt and unhealthy life. So, of course he was the one person Sherlock would fall in love with. There's no surprise in that. And as Sherlock had found himself falling in love, his life was given purpose, but his life was also made chaotic.

He wanted to hold John. To kiss his forehead, cheeks, hands, and mouth. He wanted all of him, to lie in bed with him. To run around on cases with him and to feel the thrum of adrenaline again. 

He had almost felt that when they kissed. He had felt that longing surface and start to reattach his broken pieces. Now he was back at square one, with a few additions to his problems this time. He was spiralling out of control and Sherlock, by this stage, found it so incredibly infuriating. He couldn't think. He wouldn't eat....Well, it was a broken record by this stage. Sherlock was a broken record.

He had left John to Mary later that day to ponder what John exactly meant by ''choose''. John was a loyal man. He always had been. That would mean he would hate the idea of going against his wedding vows and leaving Mary, even if he decided he wanted Sherlock more. Then again, Sherlock hoped (he knew it was a fowl thing to do) that what had happened with Mary previously may have changed John's opinion on the woman. Maybe his love for her had slipped? Maybe even Sherlock, the manic-depressive sociopath, seemed more favourable. 

Yet, John had always been loyal to Sherlock too. He had always been there, even when he crossed a line and said too many deductions to count for, or if he stupidly insulted someone out of pure ignorance...John stuck by. Would he this time? Or would John decide it would be easier for the two to truly part ways this time. Not like before, when they had managed to come crawling back to each other, but truly separated from each other. 

When the tired detective found himself back at Baker Street, it was early into the next day. He didn't want to abuse himself with any sort of stimulation right now, but he did need to find some sort of release to calm down. So, Sherlock sat on his couch with a cup of tea and he shut his eyes. And, all he did was go over that kiss in his head. He went over the feel, the warmth, the taste, smell, desperation and love that had flowed between them. He found his fingers reaching up to trace over his own lips where John's had been. Oh, he wanted him. He loved him unbearably so and he didn't feel as if it would ever be something he would just move on from....But, who knew how John would react? Who knew who he'd choose? Sherlock managed to fall asleep to the memory of John's hands in his hair.


	6. At Last

A month later, everything had sizzled down a small bit. John was still undecided, but he was spending a lot more time with Sherlock. And, as a result, Sherlock had gained some weight and he didn't always look so tired. But, it wasn't easy. This was still a toxic and unhealthy relationship they were having. They were constantly dancing around each other, avoiding more kisses, and always keeping a safe distance between each other. Both of them were indebted to Mary. They both had agreed that an affair would do no one good. As much as they still loved each other, they didn't want to be forever hiding, or lying. That wasn't the right thing to do...but, it was hard not to just throw themselves at each other.

Especially for John. The wound that had been his love for Sherlock had been ripped open. Oh, it was still entirely there. His love was ripe and it made him needy for Sherlock, yet guilty because of Mary. Yes, he and Mary had been drifting apart even before this, but the distance was greater now. And, like he and Sherlock had discussed; Mary wasn't an idiot. She was bound to notice the change in all of their relationships. She had. He and Sherlock, once again, were thick as thieves and John had even stayed over at Baker Street a fair few times.

Sherlock was, no doubt, happier. John was most definitely present in his life. He may not be acquainted with him in the way he wished,but Sherlock was happy enough to settle for second best. He didn't want to die anymore, so that was a bonus. John saw this, and with it he also saw just how dependant Sherlock had been on him. How much he still needed him. A part of John felt burdened by this need, but he mostly found it deeply satisfying. To know that he and Sherlock had always been on the same page in terms of attraction was overwhelmingly reassuring.

But this false sense of security was not going to last forever. Everyone knew it. Yes, Sherlock and John were close once again, but while this was happening, John and Mary's marriage was straining terribly and Sherlock was still left in the dark on the subject of John's choices. He was glum whenever John left the house. Mrs.Hudson noticed it, but she kept a respective distance. At least Sherlock was off the substance abuse. At least he was eating a bit more now. And choosing to sleep, rather than waiting until he couldn't keep his eyes open...was an improvement, definitely.

It was a Thursday when everything changed (More so than it already had developed). Sherlock was at Baker Street, alone. Today wasn't too bad a day. He had had his dosage of John's company the day prior and he was on a bit of a high from it.They had wrapped up a case involving the head of a Card Company franchise and a rather unfortunate 'misprinting' on a few hundred of the cards. They had barged back into Baker Street with proud grins, the thrum of adrenaline in their veins. They had shared a strong look, refrained from kissing each other senseless and then gotten a nice, strong cup of tea. Sherlock was quite pleased knowing John wanted him too. Yes, it was frustrating not being able to touch him so, but it made everything just about bearable.

So, his high was brought down once he heard the slam of the front door. It was pretty late, and Sherlock was actually drifting off on the couch, laptop on his knees. He gave a start and his eyes widened. He heard the familiar pattern of John's steps on his stairs, a bit more aggressive than usual. He raised an eyebrow and stood, closing over his laptop. 

''John?''

He was greeted by John throwing open the door into the sitting room. He stormed over to Sherlock, took his face in his hands and smacked their lips together. Sherlock gave a start and stumbled back a bit, their lips moving in a hungry sync. John's hands were back in Sherlock's hair and Sherlock's were cupping John's cheeks. They shared in this moment of needs being met, full of soft sighs and muffled moans.

Sherlock forced himself to pull back, gasping for air. He kept his hands on John's face, a look of concern reaching his eyes. ''What was that? What's wrong?''

John sighed, calming down from his moment of complete need for Sherlock. ''We broke up. Me and Mary. We are  _through.''_

Sherlock's eyes widened a fraction. ''What? What-what does that mean?''

''It means...'' John kissed Sherlock again, once on the mouth, then down along his jaw and neck. ''I. Chose. You.''

Sherlock felt tears rise in his eyes and his chin tilted back as John kissed him. ''You chose me?'' he whispered, voice drenched in disbelief.

John pulled back, his heart clenching at how vulnerable Sherlock looked. ''Yes. Yes, of course I chose you.''

''I-'' he didn't know what to say. ''John, are you sure? About wanting me, you have just come out of a long standing relationship and while feelings are there, you may-''

''Shut up. I chose you.'' John growled, pressing his lips on Sherlock's.

In no time, they were pulling at each other's clothing, quickly stumbling to Sherlock's room. John threw Sherlock's shirt to the kitchen floor and kept them walking backwards. Sherlock fumbled with the buttons on John's shirt, having already thrown his belt to the floor.

They fell into bed, Sherlock bringing John down on top of him. They kicked away their pants, leaving them both left in boxers. The two paused, gazing at each other truly for the first time. 

''John, I'm-''

''A virgin. Yeah.''

''Oh, you know.''

''Of course I do.'' John smiled softly down at Sherlock, then kissed his lips softly. ''I'll take care of you.''

Sherlock shivered warmly, arms reaching up to place themselves around John's neck as they sank into their first perfect night together, whispering ''I love you'' to each other.


	7. Domesticity

''Eat it, Sherlock.''

''I don't want to eat it, John.''

''You are going to bloody eat it, even if it's the last bloody thing I do. I will make you eat it.''

'' _John_ '' Sherlock whined.

They sat across from each other at the kitchen table, a plate of unfinished breakfast before Sherlock. John picked up a fork and got a piece of bacon on it. 

''Sherlock, you need to build up your appetite again. Now, we are sticking to our regime.  _Eat_ ''

Sherlock only frowned down at the fork. ''But, I'm so full already.''

''William Sherlock Scott Holmes! Eat your food!''

Sherlock went silent for a moment, staring at John's face. He took the fork and scowled at John. ''Fine, idiot.'' He took a bite and chewed slowly. 

John smiled and leaned across the table to kiss Sherlock's forehead. ''Well done.''

Sherlock scowled again, though his cheeks started to heat up. He swallowed and looked up to John.

''A month.''

John sat back in his chair. ''Hmm?'' He questioned. ''What?''

''Been a month since you moved back in.'' Sherlock mumbled, continuing to eat with a small frown.

John's eyes slid across Sherlock's face. Over the last month, they'd gotten used to living with each other again, now there were a few added perks, obviously. There were more things to have to go through with Mary, but that was definitely over. Mary was angry at the two of them, and John couldn't blame her. He felt a little guilty, but...Sherlock. He couldn't give up on Sherlock. It was always Sherlock. He was always going to go back to him.

''Is it really?'' John responded, tilting his chair back.

Sherlock nodded, taking a sip of his orange juice. He looked to John and smiled lightly. John started to grin and he stood, walking around behind Sherlock so he could wrap his arms around his waist. He rested his chin on Sherlock's shoulder. 

''Love me?''

''I might just.'' Sherlock responded, finding a small bit of his appetite again. ''I do.''

''Good, I love you too.'' John pecked his cheek and pulled away. ''I should start to get ready for work. 

Sherlock nodded. ''Sure,'' he swallowed a bite of his food. ''I have to go out today anyway.''

''Oh?'' John questioned, clearing away his own plate of food.

''Apparently there's been a sighting. Moriarty.'' Sherlock answered, frowning.

''You still don't believe it's him, do you?''

''He shot himself in the head, John!''

'' _You_  jumped off a building!'' John reminded him, leaning against the counter. ''I know how infuriating it must feel for you to know that you must've missed something,''-Sherlock sighed-''but, it's not like you can go back in time. Keep your options open, Sherlock.''

Sherlock was silent for a moment, then he smiled. ''Two fake suicides.''

John tsked at Sherlock. ''Yeah, you're not allowed to do that again.''

''I know.'' Sherlock answered, glancing over at John. ''Not unless it's completely necess-''

'' _No_.'' John stopped him, looking straight into his eyes. ''Never. Again.''

''I wont live forever, John.''

''Stop it.'' John whispered, looking down at his shoes. ''Don't say that.''

Sherlock sighed and stood, walking to John. ''Hey,'' he said softly, asking for his attention. John raised his head back up, his expression; weary.

''Never again.'' Sherlock said, pulling him into a hug. John latched a hand onto the back of Sherlock's pajama shirt, and he nuzzled his nose into his chest.

''Idiot.'' he chided, kissing his chest once.

Sherlock grinned and kissed the top of his head. ''I know.'' he murmured.

They stood in a comfortable, comforting silence for a few moments more, until Sherlock took in a breath and pulled back from John.

''Go, get ready for work.'' he smiled. ''I'll make you some tea to bring in a flask.''

''Thanks,'' John kissed his lips briefly, then turned and towards their bedroom (previously Sherlock's bedroom).

 

John came back from work late that night to find Sherlock asleep on the couch, coat still on with a cut lip and a bruise forming on his cheek. John was instantly worried and he sat down by Sherlock on the couch, bringing Sherlock's head to rest on his lap. 

''Love?'' he whispered, brushing back his hair. ''Sherlock, wake up.''

Sherlock stirred a bit and blinked his eyes open. He smiled sleepily up at John. ''You're home.''

John managed a small smile, face lined with concern. ''Sherlock, where did you get that shiner?''

''Oh,'' Sherlock raised a hand to his cheek, prodding a small bit to see how much it hurt. ''I'm fine, there were just criminals involved today and one wasn't quite happy with me.''

John frowned. ''What happened?''

Sherlock looked up to John. ''Mycroft had found him, taken him in for questioning. A remnant of the network I had taken down. He wasn't too pleased to hear of what I had dismantled. I wasn't prepared for any violence.'' Sherlock shrugged. ''I'm fine.''

John nodded, smiling softly down at him, brushing back the curls from his face. ''I love you.'' he whispered.

Sherlock felt his heart swell and he gazed at John's face, still disbelieving that he was finally  _his_. ''I love you too.'' Sherlock grinned.

''Do you, now?'' John chuckled back, a goofy smile appearing on his face.

''Yes,'' Sherlock pulled himself up and kissed John's lips softly. ''A lot. Very much so.'' he whispered against his lips. ''Immensely, entirely, forever.''

John laughed and kissed him briefly, aware of his cut lip. ''Wouldn't have guessed.''

Sherlock heaved a fake sigh and started to kiss at John's jaw, and down along his neck. ''Idiot.'' he joked, his voice soft. ''My lovely idiot.''

John's shoulders shook as he laughed. ''I'm not sure if that's a compliment...?''

''Mmm,'' was all Sherlock responded with, bringing his trailing lips back up to John's mouth. ''I'd take it as a compliment. I rarely give them.''

''Oh, I don't know.'' John grinned, pushing Sherlock back against the arm rest, carefully hovering over him with a smile. ''I've gotten quite a lot of nice things said about me in recent times.''

''Oh, well, you're different, aren't you?'' Sherlock answered, reaching up to meet John's lips. ''Your status has been raised to lovely,  _unique_  idiot.''

John laughed and kissed both of Sherlock's cheeks. ''You're ridiculous.'' he grinned, kissing his neck now.

Sherlock laughed and squirmed. ''That tickles, John!''

John only continued, until Sherlock was left a laughing mess beneath him, tears of laughter in his eyes. Sherlock's laugh, to John, was the most beautiful sound, and he had rarely heard it with such clarity before. He stopped tickling him and kissed his forehead as Sherlock caught his breath. 

''I love you.'' he repeated to Sherlock.

''I've gathered.''


	8. Be Careful What You Wish For

Months went by and Sherlock and John were finally happy, finally back to normal. Moriarty had been quiet since his one brief sighting, and Sherlock was now convinced it was all a hoax.

He couldn't bring himself to even think about what Moriarty being alive would have meant. It meant he wouldn't have had to jump. He wouldn't have been apart from John. John wouldn't have found Mary. Wouldn't have married her and left Sherlock alone. Despite the fact that they were now a couple, Sherlock still would've preferred to skip the years of separation. 

Life was annoyingly quiet, but today would change everything. And Sherlock would be thinking;  _Be careful what you wish for._

''Bored, John!'' 

''Shut up, Sherlock, I'm trying to work.''John said back, gritting his teeth. 

Sherlock let out a loud sigh and stood up from his armchair. He stood behind John at the desk and leaned his chin on his shoulder. ''Did I ever tell you how sexy-''

''Not in the mood, Sherlock.'' he sighed.

''Right.'' Sherlock stood up straight. ''Sorry.'' He sighed again and flopped down onto the couch. He hesitated, before saying ''sorry'' again.

John smiled a little, eyes still on his paperwork. ''It's okay, love.''

Sherlock smiled to himself and shut his eyes as he rested his hand over his belly. ''Don't you need to go to the bank or something?''

John cursed under his breath and stood, quickly reaching across the table to grab his jacket. ''You're right, I forgot.'' he stuffed his phone and wallet into his jeans, before leaning down and kissing Sherlock's forehead. ''I love you.''

Sherlock opened his eyes and smiled up at John. ''I love you too. See you later.''

John pecked him once more before standing and hopping down the stairs. Sherlock sighed as he heard the door shut. It was a wonder John put up with him. He'd need a case soon. He wished for some excitement. He wished for something different.

 

It was much later when John arrived back home. Sherlock ran down the stairs quickly, clad in his pajamas. 

''Where on earth have you been?'' His eyes were wide, face pale with worry.

John just turned and looked at Sherlock with a tight jaw. He never met his partner's eyes. He looked livid. He looked furious, but it was his voice that gave him away.

''I need to speak with you.'' He sounded pained and hoarse. 

Sherlock felt his stomach clench and turn and he swallowed hard, looking down to John, wariness in his stance. 

''You okay?''

John gave a short, sad laugh, bitterness dripping through. He shook his head. ''Ah...no. No, I'm not really. I have to-I have to tell you something.''

''So...So, tell me.'' Sherlock answered, feeling apprehensive. He knew what this looked like, but that just didn't make sense.

John licked his lips. ''Sherlock,'' he sounded as if he was swallowing down a lump in his throat. ''Sherlock, I'm starting to think that maybe ''this'' isn't the best idea.''

The detective's mouth went dry and he started shaking his head. His eyes narrowed. ''No, you're not.''

John gave that fake laugh again as tears filled his eyes, and he still never looked into Sherlock's eyes. ''Yes, I have...I'm sorry.''

''No,'' Sherlock shifted on his feet, anxiousness swelling in his chest. ''No. That doesn't make sense.''

John forced himself to finally meet Sherlock's eyes. He had his shoulders squared, like a soldier, but his body still managed to tremble. ''I'm leaving you, Sherlock.''

Sherlock felt his lip quiver and tears slipped onto his cheeks. He shook his head again. ''Who's making you do this?''

John heaved a sigh and stepped back, dropping his head into his hands. ''No one is  _making_  me, Sherlock. I,  _me_ , have made this decision.''

''No,'' Sherlock was starting to get desperate. ''Whoever is holding whatever above your head...You don't need to do this, John, please!''

''Shut up!'' John shouted, silencing the detective. It went deathly quiet and Sherlock stared at him in shock. 

''Just,  _shut up_.'' John growled, tears dripping off his nose. ''Have you ever thought that maybe I've just had enough?! Enough of you?''

''What do you...mean?'' Sherlock mumbled weakly, lips heavy. ''You said you...You  _love_  me, John.''

''I used to.'' John's icy tone cut him off and suddenly Sherlock wasn't so good at trying to keep a cool head, as he backed away from John, dropping weakly onto one of the bottoms steps on the stairs. 

''No.'' he shook his head, tears blurring his vision. They ran hot, too hot, down his cheeks and he bent over as that ghost of a pain resurfaced in his belly. ''I don't understand.'' he gasped.

John, now that Sherlock wasn't watching him, let the distress show on his face. He wanted to rush forward, take it all back, tell him he loved him. Tell him that he would always love him, but instead, in a curt voice, a voice smeared with cruelty, he continued.

''Surely you saw this coming on? It's been leading up to this for months-''

''No, it hasn't!'' Sherlock shouted, looking back up to John, tears streaming down his face, his voice thick. ''Not a week ago, we were discussing our future!'' he sniffed and wiped his nose before standing.''You bloody  _divorced_  someone so you could be with me! I lost EVERYTHING WHEN YOU LEFT AND YOU JUST WANT TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN?!'' He screamed, chest heaving. If he had thought he had had trust issues before, Sherlock's life was about to become way more difficult. 

John stared at him, his chin shaking as he tried so hard to keep in his tears, as he tried to keep himself off Sherlock. A silence hung in the air as they stared at each other, and what hurt John the most, was that despite what he was being forced to say to Sherlock, despite how horrible he knew it was for the detective...He still saw love in Sherlock's eyes. He saw hope. Hope was something he couldn't give him. 

''Tell me why you're doing this.'' Sherlock begged, voice much quieter now. ''I need to know why. Because...Because if you actually  _are_  leaving me...I wont be able to rest if I don't know what I managed to do wrong.'' A small sob escaped his lips before he continued. ''Was I not caring enough?'' he took in a quick breath. ''Cause...Cause I really tried to be. I wanted to be a normal boyfriend. I tried. I promise. I can try harder.''

John's breath caught in his throat and he fumbled with the door handle behind him. He shook his head at Sherlock. ''I'm sorry.'' he whispered. ''I am so sorry.'' 

And, then he was gone.

Leaning against the wall outside, Jim Moriarty smiled to John as he saw the tears flow down his cheeks. ''You did right thing, Johnny-boy.''


	9. Brief Encounters

_*** 2 hours earlier *** _

John’s eyes cracked open, but he was only greeted with darkness. He winced as he felt a throbbing at the back of his head and behind his lids. He’d been walking home when suddenly there was a bang, blood in his hair, and his world went black. It was Moriarty, wasn’t it? He had finally come out of the shadows. What game was he playing? John doubted he’d be willing to play. He wasn’t tied down or anything, he was just lying on a cold, stone floor. John pulled himself up and squinted, trying to make out his surroundings.

”Hello?” he called, using the wall to help him stand. He took out his phone and winced at the sudden bright light. It was half nine at night. How long had be been out? Sherlock was probably worrying, and—yes, with a quick check he saw two missed calls and four text messages. He went to dial Sherlock’s number, when the lights above him switched on. He squinted as he pocketed his phone again. He was in a small, damp room. The walls were yellow, and the paint was chipping terribly, and curling in on itself. The floor was made of cobble-stones and it looked like an old street. The room was almost bare and completely windowless, only holding two lice-eaten wooden stools stacked in the corner. But, John didn’t take any of that in. He stared at the figure in the door; Moriarty.

”Do people just…never actually died around here?” John asked, making Jim smirk as he looked John over.

”No, that’s just me and your boyfriend.” He stepped forward, hands held casually in his pockets.

”How?” John asked, licking his lips. ”How are you alive? You blew your own brains out.”

Jim laughed. ”Oh, John. Johnny, Johnny, boy.” He ran a hand over his face. ”Mr.Holmes is slipping. Of course I faked my death. I wasn’t prepared to let him win-”

”Win?” John scoffed. ”He was  _tortured._ Everyone thought he was  _dead_. That wasn’t winning. That was a compromise!”

”Oooh, I’ve hit a soft spot, haven’t I?” Jim grinned, now facing John, right in front of him. ”You can still remember, can’t you?” Jim pouted. ”How much it hurt when he left you-”

”Stop it.” John shook his head. ”No, I wont let you do this.” he said, his voice raising.

”You can’t stop me, John. And, you’re not going to stop me.”

”Stop you from what?” John asked quickly, his voice irritated, body giving small quirks of impatience and unease.

”Now, John.” He placed his hands on his shoulders. ”I have instructions for you. You will do as I say…or Sherlock gets his brains blown out.” Jim grinned, while John’s face paled.

”You wont touch him.” John said back, voice weaker. ”Wont let you.”

”I have someone stationed in the cafe below your flat. They will call to your flat as a client with a promising case, and they will shoot Sherlock in the head…If you don’t do as I say.”

John swallowed hard and pulled away from Jim. ”Tell me what I have to do, then.”

Jim smiled simply, slipping his hands casually into his suit pockets. ”You break up with him.''

 John could hear the blood rushing around his ears, he could feel his heart give a painful lurch and he shook his head softly, looking right at Jim. ''No, I can't.'' his voice was broken, words detached awkwardly. ''It would kill him.''

 Jim only grinned in response. ''I know.'' he nodded, never breaking the eye-contact he had found with John. ''But, he will  _actually_  die if you don't do it. So...break his heart, or break through his skull?''

 John gaped at him, shaking his head. ''You can't make me do this!''

 Jim took out his phone, tutting to himself. ''Fine, I'll give the say-so. Did you leave it on good terms before your baby has a bullet-''

 ''STOP!'' John screamed, staring worriedly at the phone in Jim's hand. He rushed forward, placing his hands over the screen. He raised his head to look at Moriarty, his face uncomfortably close. ''I'll do it.'' he swallowed hard. ''I'll-I'll...break up with Sherlock.''

 

_***Two weeks later*** _

 ''No, really...'' Sherlock said in a frustrated voice, Lestrade at his heels as they moved through the crowds of people to get to the tube platform. ''It  _is_  simple, you're just not thinking hard enough!'' He sighed, pushing his hands into his coat pockets as he came to a stop. 

Lestrade stood facing Sherlock, a look of annoyance in his face. ''Alright, I can see what you're trying to get at,'' his eyes wandered. ''But, what if-'' he stopped, spotting something over Sherlock's shoulder. He couldn't help it, and his eyes widened. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and looked around before Lestrade could stop him.

Sherlock's eyes scanned the crowd, and then his eyes landed on John. He stared at him for a moment, eyes widening. Suddenly, it wasn't so easy to breath, or the swallow and a tight pain spread across his chest until it physically hurt to be seeing him again. He could feel the pressure of tears rising around his eyes and the smallest noise of pain escaped him as his lip quivered. 

Lestrade's heart nearly broke at how suddenly Sherlock went from arrogant cock to...Broken and longing and...everything human. He placed his hand on Sherlock's forearm. ''Maybe...'' he licked his lips. ''Sherlock, maybe you shouldn't go over.''

No words came to his lips and he kept staring at John, trying to keep those tears at bay, his mouth twitching.  _Look at me. Notice me. Come back to me. Hold me. Tell me what I did wrong. Tell me how I messed up the one good thing I had._ Dammit, he was crying before he could stop it and he ducked his head, tears dripping onto his cheeks, shoulders shaking. Lestrade's eyes widened and he moved his hand up to rest on Sherlock's shoulder. ''Hey...''

Sherlock shook his head, wanting to crumple to the ground. He took in a sharp breath and let another pained noise slip past his lips. ''I just want to know why.''

Lestrade was shocked at this display of emotion, but he knew he had to help Sherlock right now. ''Sherlock, I...'' John had spotted him and Lestrade could see his eyes widen from across the crowd. John looked crushed. He even looked paler. Thinner. Sherlock's eyes looked up and he followed Lestrade's gaze til his eyes fell on John again. And, they looked at each other.

Sherlock felt his breath leave him, while John almost started to hyperventilate, guilt twisting in his stomach at how he had upset Sherlock. A tube came rushing onto the platform, ruffling John's hair, who was closer to the track. Sherlock kept their eye-contact.  _Talk to me._

_Sherlock, I can't._

_Please._

_I just can't._ John shook his head, stepping into the carriage. 

 _I still love you._ Sherlock took a step forward. 

 _I know._ The doors slid shut and then he was gone again. Without explanation, without a word to comfort Sherlock. The platform was clear now, apart from Lestrade and himself. They'd wait for the next tube. He lowered his head, tears drying tracks onto his cheeks. Lestrade took a hesitant step forward again so he could see Sherlock's face. 

''Sherlock-''

''Leave it.'' he muttered, taking in a sharp breath before looking up again. ''Just...forget it.'' 

Lestrade nodded and retreated a little, confused and surprised at everything that was going on. They both still wanted each other. That was plain as day. So, why did John leave Sherlock? Was he manipulated? 

''Sherlock?'' Lestrade tried again.

Sherlock looked up at him, his face clearer now. ''I was just thinking the same thing.''


	10. Wonderful Idiot

''Sherlock, why don't you try eating?''

Silence.

''I'm making some tea, you'd like a cup, wouldn't you, dear?''

Silence.

''Dear, it's been a month. Have you finished the case yet?''

Nothing.

''How about a spot of music?'' Mrs. Hudson shuffled around Sherlock's armchair, which held the silent detective. Poor Martha Hudson was so worried. Sherlock wasn't taking this well. Not one single bit. She understood, though. She was just as confused as to why John would leave Sherlock. There was definitely something fishy about it. Not two days before, Mrs. Hudson had been chatting to John about Sherlock.

_''So, you're really settled in now.'' Mrs.Hudson smiled, handing John his cup of tea._

_''Hmm?'' He questioned, looking at her expectantly, before he understood. ''Oh, you mean Sherlock.''_

_''Yes, I mean Sherlock.'' She smiled, almost coyly, at John, lowering herself into a seat at the kitchen table._

_John grinned back with a nod. ''Yeah, I'm settled. It's just...It feels right. I mean, I had my time with Mary, but...'' his expression softened. ''It's always been Sherlock.''_

_Mrs.Hudson made a happy face. ''Oh, yous two!''_

_John blushed and batted a hand at her, walking to the sitting room. ''Shut up.''_

_Mrs.Hudson continued to beam._

She switched on the radio and looked to Sherlock, hoping to see some sort of change in him. His head tilted a little in the direction of the sound, looking a little more attentive. He sighed, allowing Mrs.Hudson to play her music. That was until he listened to it.

_You're the one that I love, and I'm saying goodbye._

His hand struck out, slamming down on the button to move to the next nearest radio channel.

_If you loved me, why'd you leave me?_

''Oh, for f-'' He turned off the radio, rolling his eyes. Mrs.Hudson shuffled back in, eyes regretful.

''Dear, I didn't think-''

''It's fine,'' Sherlock hopped off his words, standing up from his armchair. ''Maybe I'll go out today.''

Mrs.Hudson hid her surprise and gave a nod, a little late. ''That's, yeah...That's a good idea. Fresh air ought to do you some good.''

''Exactly,'' Sherlock nodded with put-on enthusiasm. ''I'll go out.''

She just nodded again. ''If that's what you want''

''Mhm.'' Sherlock answered, walking into his room and shutting his door.

 

It was only an hour or so into Sherlock's mindless wandering of the familiar London streets before he noticed he was actually bored. Should he go home? No, too many memories. Seeing nothing else to do, he decided to take the tube to...wherever. Wherever his body pulled him towards, though he ended up quite upset with himself when he arrived in Soho. He recognized the streets he had ran with John on their first ever case together. Safe to say, Sherlock had cleared from the area pretty promptly. 

He continued wandering aimlessly, until he felt a buzzing against the top of his leg. He pulled out his phone and his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw it was John who was calling him. He stopped dead in the street, making quite a few people stumble and throw him glares. He quickly answered with trembling fingers. 

''John?'' he asked after a slight moment's hesitation. 

There was the sound of a loud exhalation of breath. ''Oh, it's great to hear your voice.''

''...John?'' Sherlock asked again. By the way John had left it with Sherlock, the detective wasn't expecting to hear any signs of John  _missing_  him, yet...

''John, why are you calling me?''

John hesitated on the other end of the conversation. ''Sherlock, I've gotten myself into some trouble. I-I...I shouldn't have left you-''

''I knew it!'' Sherlock exclaimed, feeling a burst of triumph in his chest. John made a noise of annoyance and Sherlock composed himself. ''Tell me about it.''

''I don't have time, Sherlock. I think...'' his voice dropped to a whisper and Sherlock could hear a door creek in the background. 

''John, what's going on? Are you hurt?''

John nodded, even if no one could see him. ''I think I've sprained my ankle, and I want to get out of this. I've been....They said they were going to kill you, Sherlock. I didn't know what else to do.''

Sherlock shut his eyes, worry washing through him, but also a feeling of relief. He hadn't messed up, John had just been trying to protect him. ''You idiot,'' he said, but his voice was soft.

''I know,'' John's voice was shaking. ''I'm in the basement of that shop, the...the weird one. Plaza. That one, remember?''

''Yes, I remember. What have they been making you do?''

''...Just small things, Sherlock. Stupid things, I was like a bloody secretary.''

''Idiot.'' Sherlock repeated, shaking his head as he turned to hail a cab. 

''Sherlock...'' John licked his lips. ''I love you.''

Sherlock's eyes momentarily shut again and for a brief moment he feel like crying out in happiness or sobbing in relief. ''Oh, you  _wonderful_ idiot'' Sherlock sighed. 

John let out a wet laugh. ''I'm really sorry, Sherlock. I just...I wouldn't let them kill you.''

''John,'' Sherlock murmured softly. ''I've been in that position too, remember? I understand, it's okay.''

John paused, experiencing a small moment of revelation. ''Oh, I understand now.''

Sherlock smiled softly as he climbed into the back of a cab. He paused briefly to tell the cabbie his wanted destination, before going back to John. ''Keep talking to me, okay?''

''Okay,'' John mumbled. ''Do you still love me?''

Sherlock snorted in response. ''What do you think?''

John started to smile a little wider and he let out a laugh, almost like a giggle. The sound made Sherlock smile slightly. ''You know that I love you.'' Sherlock said softly. 

John sniffed in a bit. ''This has been a horrible past month.''

Sherlock made a noise of agreement. ''We have had worse, do remember.''

''Doesn't make it any less horrible.''

''True, John.'' Sherlock sighed, and bit his lip before saying; ''I wished you'd told me.''

''So do I. I wished I told you, I wished I stopped this sooner.''

''Well, no matter, John. I'm coming to get you, and we'll get out of this no problem, okay? I'll call for Mycroft's help, I'll call for Lestrade, okay?''

''Okay, love.''

''Now...keep talking...''


	11. Here We Go Again...

Sherlock arrived as soon as was humanly possible, comforted by the fact that back up was on its way. He crept in the back door, into what seemed to be a run-down office unit. He stopped trying to sneak by, remembering that his own face was probably a key into Moriarty's hub. He turned into a room, walls grey, furniture bland and shutters shut. There was a man in a suit tapping away at a laptop and Sherlock cleared his throat for his attention.

''Sorry,'' the man sounded beyond bored. ''Only Moriarty goes down, you know that.''

''I'm sure he wouldn't mind me taking a look.'' Sherlock said confidently, staring down at him. The man's head snapped up in recognition of Sherlock's voice. He stood quickly, whipping out a gun and pointing it at Sherlock. ''You stay right where you are.''

Sherlock took a step forward. ''You know,'' he tilted his head. ''I'd much rather see my boyfriend.''

The gun quavered in his hands. ''Take one more step and I'll shoot.''

''No, you wont.'' Sherlock smiled. ''Because it's Moriarty's job to kill me, not anyone else.''

''I can harm you!'' he threatened in a shaking voice.

''Oh, God.'' Sherlock huffed out, looking up at the ceiling. He struck his hand out, catching the man's wrist. The gun dropped and went off, speeding a bullet through the thin, wooden wall. Sherlock tightened his grip around the man's wrist, keeping him close as he swung a punch into his face. The man crumpled to the ground and he stayed there. Sherlock rolled his eyes and stepped around the desk, rooting for keys. Once he found them, he pulled out his phone. John was still on the other line.

''Was that a gun?'' he hissed.

''Nobody's hurt.'' Sherlock said, stepping out of the room. ''Where's the entrance to the basement?''

''It's in the back room. This is the first time they've contained me like this, Sherlock. I don't know what's going on.''

''It's okay,'' Sherlock said in a soft whisper. He peeped in the door, made sure the coast was clear, then stepped towards the trap door. ''I'll get you out. It'll be okay.'' he tried all the keys on the door, until he found the right one. ''Okay, once I get down here, where do I go?''

''There's a corridor. I'm in the very last room. You'll need a key for that too.''

''Okay,'' Sherlock eyed the ladder descending into a dark corridor. ''I'm going to hang up now, okay?''

''Okay.'' John hung up, eager to see Sherlock.

Sherlock pocketed his phone, starting to climb down the ladder. Once his feet hit a cobble-stone floor, he squinted into the darkness. ''Ever heard of electricity, Jim?'' he muttered under his breath, taking out his pocket-torch. He spotted the last door and walked to it. He knocked to alert John. ''It's me. Are the lights on in there?''

''Yeah,'' John stood from the floor, limping to the door. ''Slide the keys under the door and I'll open it from here if you can't see.''

Sherlock did so, hunkering down a moment and pushing the keys under. ''Okay, hurry up.''

''Why?'' came John's voice, trying out different keys. ''Is there someone coming?''

''...No, I just want to see you.'' Sherlock said quietly. You could clearly hear the keys give a rattle as John sped up his efforts to open the door. Sherlock glanced behind him every couple of seconds even though he couldn't see much. He felt on edge. He needed to see John. And finally the door opened and light flooded the dank corridor. Sherlock's head snapped over so he could see John and before he could even say hello, John had jumped on him in a hug. 

''Ow!'' John hissed, having hurt his own sprained ankle, but he only tightened his arms around Sherlock and Sherlock hugged him back just as tight. 

''Be  _careful_ , John.'' Sherlock sighed, softly pulling back to place a kiss upon his forehead, then down to his cheeks, along his jaw and onto his neck. ''Don't ever do that again.'' he sighed onto his skin.

''Never.'' John breathed, tears welling up in his eyes. ''Oh, God. I'm sorry, Sherlock.'' his shoulders started shaking. ''You did  _nothing_  wrong. Absolutely nothing.''

Sherlock pulled his head back up and brushed the tears from his cheeks. ''Shh,'' Sherlock now felt guilty for making  _John_  feel guilty. ''Stop, no. It's okay, I just wished you'd told me. I could've stopped this, John.''

John nodded, sniffing in hard. ''I know. I was stupid. But, you're here now and...''

Both of them turned their heads in the direction of the door, hearing the slap of shoes on the floor. Sherlock straightened up a bit and pushed John behind him as he faced the door. ''So, Moriarty's back?'' he murmured quietly to John.

John nodded, licking his lips nervously behind Sherlock. ''And bigger than ever.''

He strode in, his ego, his smart shining almost as much as his grin. ''Sherlock Holmes.'' he smiled at him, walking forward with an outstretched arm. ''Long time no-''

Sherlock grabbed his hand and pulled him close so he could punch him in the face. Jim went stumbling back and he pulled back, looking unamused. ''I have a feeling you didn't miss me.'' 

Sherlock was fuming and he stepped forward, purposely looming over him. ''No, I did  _not.'''_ he took him by the scruff and punched him again.

''Sherlock!'' John shouted, stepping forward. ''This is not how you negotiate!''

Sherlock pulled back while Jim spat blood at the floor. ''Listen to your Johnny, Sherlock. Maybe the grief you caused him made him harden-''

Sherlock's eyes widened and he could do nothing to stop himself punching him again, except this time Jim responded, unlike his old ways. He swung a hit across Sherlock's jaw, honestly alarming the detective. John tried to step forward, but his ankle gave way and he sank to the floor. 

''You know what, Sherlock Holmes?'' Jim spat, grabbing his collar and pushing him against the wall. ''You have been a pain in my arse for the past few years. Dismantling my network?! How dare you?!'' He grabbed a fistful of his curls and bashed his head against the wall and Sherlock cried out. 

''You said no one would ever get to you.'' Sherlock grunted against the thumping in his head and the trickle of blood going down his neck. ''And I ruined everything.''

''Sherlock, stop.'' John tried to warn him. He knew, he had seen how Jim had changed. Now, he  _would_  put himself in the firing line. 

Jim growled and bashed his head harder this time, making Sherlock give a whine of pain and his hands moved up to try and get Jim off him. ''If I apologize now will you stop?'' he said weakly, the blood started to gush from the back of his head. 

Moriarty's face twisted in anger and he banged Sherlock's head one more time before Sherlock's eyes rolled back and he slumped to the floor. John's eyes widened and he stood painfully. ''Get away from him.'' Where was that back up?

Jim laughed, looking down at the blood on his hands. ''I will end you and your  _precious_  Sherlock for good this time. Didn't I say that already?'' 

John ignored him and looked past Jim to Sherlock. ''Sherlock,'' he called worriedly. He detective didn't even stir and a shoot of fear ran through the doctor. ''Sherlock.'' he said again, limping forward, but then Jim pulled out a revolver, holding lazily at John.

''I did not give you permission to get help!'' He screeched. John's eyes widened in anger and in helplessness, but suddenly the sound of running feet rang through the corridor and Jim spun around as the room was flooded with armed police men and women. John let them do what they needed to, barely caring about Jim.

He dropped onto his knees, grunting in pain beside Sherlock. His hands shook as he cradled Sherlock's bloodied head and he whispered his name until Sherlock's eyes flickered open. 

John let out a sigh of relief. ''Don't do that again!'' he hissed, keeping his head upright. ''You're a bloody idiot.''

Sherlock gave a weak laugh. ''Yes. Literally bloody.''

John groaned. ''Please don't make bad jokes right now.'' he said as the paramedics made their way over.

''You love it.'' Sherlock mumbled weakly, before John stepped back to let him be taken onto the stretcher. 


	12. The End

Sherlock wasn't kept in hospital for long, due his own complaining and John's negotiations with other doctors. He didn't want to have to deal with a moping Sherlock. No one wanted to have to deal with that. John loved him, but, by God, could Sherlock complain. John hailed them a cab, and off home they went. 

''Stop messing with your stitches, Sherlock!'' he snapped, taking his hand away from the back of his head. 

''Sorry, It's distracting me. They're really annoying.''

''At least you can walk, I have to use crutches.''

''Oh, you sprained your ankle, you'll survive.''

''Yes, and you let the world's most dangerous criminal smash your head in. Was that part of your daring escape?''

Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked over at John. ''Not at all, I'm just glad that we  _did_  escape. I'm also glad you're back.''

John's expression softened up a bit, and he smiled at Sherlock. ''I'm glad to be back. I'm guessing nothing in the flat's changed? Or did you move my chair again?''

Sherlock shook his head and looked back out the window. ''Chair's there. So are a few bits of clothes you left over. I couldn't bring myself to touch it.''

''Oh...Sherlock...'' John bit his lip.

''Oh, no,no,no. Not like that. I couldn't touch it, not because I was pining or anything. No, no. Because I had my suspicions about you being forced to do all that, so I thought you'd be back.''

John smiled slightly, looking at his boyfriend with amused eyes. He had missed him. Him, and his ridiculous ways of talking, of clearing up a situation, of loving John. ''So, you didn't pine for me?''

Sherlock looked around to John, eyes widened slightly. ''You don't think I pined?''

John lightly and playfully punched Sherlock's arm, sliding closer on the seat to Sherlock. ''It's called sarcasm, Sherlock.''

''Oh,'' Sherlock started smiling again. He nodded. ''I most definitely did pine for you. Lord knows, I'm an expert at this stage.''

John's smile faltered, and his hand tightened around Sherlock's arm. ''...Don't say it like that.''

Sherlock sighed and stroked a hand through John's hair. ''Sorry, that was insensitive, wasn't it?''

John tilted his head softly from side to side, lips pursed. ''Yeah, a bit, Sherlock.''

''Sorry.'' Sherlock said, reaching forward to kiss John's forehead. ''But, none of that matters now.'' he whispered, keeping close to him. ''You're back, and I think Jim's locked up for good this time.''

John nodded buoyantly. ''Yeah, you're right. Maybe we can focus on  _us_  for a while?'' he threw a bit of a coy smile at Sherlock, making the detective chuckle and blush.

Soon, they were back home, Sherlock helping John up the stairs, into their sitting room. ''Feel good to be back?'' he asked, eyes raking over John's face. No, he wouldn't say it aloud, but it was the most relieving feeling to see John in Baker Street again. He'd nearly lost that man too many times. But, now, Sherlock was sure, it would never happen again. They were in this for life, and they had been, really since day one. Since John pulled that trigger and saved Sherlock's life. Since Sherlock texted 'Could be dangerous'.

John smiled, pointing a finger at Sherlock and chuckling a bit. ''You've got that face on you. Why are you wearing ''the face''?''

Sherlock blinked, coming out of his thoughts, then rolling his eyes. ''Oh, stop it with ''the face''. It's the only one I've got.''

John laughed and allowed Sherlock to help him into his armchair. The detective took his place opposite John and just smiled widely at him. John raised an eyebrow, but Sherlock just shrugged.

''You're so happy to have me back.'' John said in a soft voice, a gentle smile reaching his eyes.

Sherlock shrugged again. ''Why wouldn't I be, John?''

''Oh, I don't know.  Don't I get in the way of your work-?''

''Yes, sometimes.''

John gave a short laughed. '' _Well,_  then.''

''But, that doesn't mean I don't love you, you big idiot.''

''You're the idiot, you got stitches in your head.''

Sherlock grinned. ''You let Jim persuade you into breaking up with me.''

John stared across at him, silent for a moment. ''...Fair point, but you're still an idiot.''

''Practically everyone is.'' Sherlock said back.

John just smiled and looked at Sherlock in his armchair. A comfortable, calming silence filled the flat as they just soaked up the fact that everything was okay now, everything could go back to normal. The excitement was over, except this time Sherlock didn't care. He  _wanted_ a bit  of peace and quiet, especially for John. He also wanted more time where they could just focus on each other, and their future and everything else that held promise and happiness and what the two men deserved. The Best Man and his Doctor. 

''You know what I was thinking?'' Sherlock broke the silence after a few minutes, his fingers drumming on the arm rest of his chair. The room noticeably darkened as the rain picked up outside, Sherlock's favourite type of weather. Moody. How very telling.

''What, Sherlock?'' John asked, giving a sigh as he rested his head against his fisted hand, putting his weight on his on arm rest.

''I like...bees.'' He said, being careful on how he went about this.

John blinked at him, unsure if he had heard correctly. It was a rather random thing to say. ''...Bees?''

Sherlock nodded. ''Bees.'' he smiled a bit at John before continuing. ''In the future, and I mean the  _future_ , I always thought that if I was to retire, I could take up bee-keeping.''

John gave an amused smile. He'd never heard of this before. Sherlock never talked about retirement and...well, bees. ''Really? You?''

''Yes, me.'' he nodded again. ''What would you do?''

John stared at him for a moment, then his eyes wandered across the room, letting out a long breath through pursed lips. ''...God, I don't know, Sherlock. I suppose...just be settled somewhere. Happy, you know?''

''With me?'' Sherlock asked, his voice ringing out with clarity in the nearly silent flat.

John looked back at him and smiled warmly. He nodded. ''Yeah,'' he said, voice almost a whisper, it was so soft. ''Yeah, of course, Sherlock.''

Sherlock looked down, his cheeks flushing as he smiled widely. John laughed at how adorable his boyfriend was being, and was about to say something, when Sherlock's phone rang. He reached inside the jacket he wore and answered the phone.

John watched him, seeing the usual symptoms creep up. A case. And, a good one too. Sherlock looked excited. He nodded, listening to whoever was on the other end of the line, probably Lestrade.

''...Ah, yes. No, it sounds great, but I'm supposed to be taking care of John...'' he bit his lip. Oh, this case was promising, but John was what mattered more.

''Oi!'' John called softly, catching Sherlock's attention. Sherlock looked up at John, muttered a small ''one second'', then muted the phone by pressing it against his chest.

''What?'' he whispered across to John.

John grinned and motioned to the door. ''Go, love. I know you want to.''

Sherlock chewed on the inside of his cheek. ''But, you....''

''But nothing. Like you said, it's a sprained ankle. I'll survive. The game is on, dear Sherlock.'' he smiled. ''Go on, I'm fine.''

Sherlock's eyes lit up and he put the phone back to his ear. ''Be there in twenty.'' he said, before hanging up and standing. ''You sure?'' he looked at John, buttoning up his suit jacket.

John nodded. ''On one condition.''

''Yes, anything, what?'' Sherlock asked, pulling his scarf on around his neck.

''Kiss me.'' John smiled up at him.

Sherlock returned the smile and leaned down to softly, and briefly kissed his lips.

''Solve me a mystery, Sherlock Holmes.''

Sherlock grinned and grabbed his coat, flying down the stairs.

''I love you!'' John called.

''Love you too!'' And the door shut.


End file.
